chapter 10
1046 Words
Sophia arrived at the office earlier than usual, the city still clinging to the last breath of morning fog. Her sneakers squeaked slightly against the polished floor as she hurried inside, balancing two cups of coffee awkwardly in one hand and her bag in the other.
No sarcastic comment greeted her.
No snide, half-mocking remark about her being early for once. No exaggerated glance at the clock.
Nothing.
She blinked at the empty reception area outside Richard’s office. His door was slightly ajar, something that normally never happened. He hated the idea of anyone catching a glimpse into his sacred space without permission.
Maybe he forgot to close it?
She hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot, debating if she should knock anyway. The coffee cup was burning her fingers. In the end, she nudged the door open with her elbow.
Still no shouting. No warning bark about personal boundaries.
Richard was there behind his desk, staring at his laptop like he could drill a hole through it with just his eyes. His face was a mask — not angry exactly, but distant. Tired maybe. Or something worse.
“Good morning, sir,” Sophia said carefully, stepping in.
Nothing. Not even a grunt.
She set one of the coffees on the side of his desk, far enough not to seem presumptuous but close enough he’d know it was for him. He didn’t look up.
She swallowed. Normally by now he’d have made some caustic remark about her clumsiness or suggested she poison someone else with her "street corner coffee."
“I, uh... I checked through the vendor contracts you asked for,” she said, voice too loud in the awkward silence. She held out the folder.
Finally, Richard moved. Slowly. Like it took effort. He reached out and took the folder from her without a word.
Still nothing.
Sophia hovered there, not sure if she should leave or wait. Usually, he'd dismiss her sharply or find something else to throw at her.
She stared at him, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. His eyes were darker than usual, shadowed in a way she couldn’t quite explain. He looked — not sick — but... different. Like someone had taken the sharp edges off him and left something brittle underneath.
She blurted out before she could stop herself, “Are you... okay?”
Instantly, she regretted it.
Richard’s head snapped up. The cold, cutting version of him returned in an instant, his mask slamming back into place like a dropped guillotine.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean, Miss Hartwell?” His voice was low, dangerous.
Sophia flinched inwardly but tried to recover. “Nothing, sir. You just seemed... different.”
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms slowly. “And now you believe it’s your duty to monitor my emotional state?”
“No! No, sir. I just—” She fumbled, cheeks burning. “You usually... yell more? I don’t know, I just thought...”
“Thought what?” he demanded.
Sophia looked at her sneakers. “Nothing.”
Richard let the silence hang long enough to suffocate the room. Then he said, voice like ice, “Miss Hartwell, you are my assistant. Not my therapist. Not my friend. And certainly not my conscience.”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Or would you prefer that next time you wander into my office without knocking, I correct you properly?”
Sophia’s stomach twisted. She had known she was pushing it. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Good.” He slid the folder across the desk without opening it. “Check through everything you submitted. If I find even one inconsistency, you’ll spend the night retyping the whole thing manually. Understood?”
She nodded again, gripping the folder so tightly her knuckles went white. “Understood.”
Richard didn’t dismiss her. He just turned his attention back to his laptop, as if she didn’t exist.
Sophia shuffled backwards awkwardly, practically bumping into the doorframe as she left. She didn’t dare say anything else. The coffee she had bought him remained untouched on the desk.
The second the door closed, Richard’s hand curled into a fist against the tabletop.
He wasn’t angry because of what she said.
He was angry because she had seen something — even if she didn’t understand it. Angry because he had allowed himself to slip, even for a second.
Fifteen minutes passed. He tried to read the email on his screen, but the words blurred together uselessly.
He finally slammed the laptop shut with a loud snap.
No.
He wasn't going to let that stand.
He yanked the door open.
“Sophia!” His voice cracked through the outer office like a whip.
She dropped her pen in fright.
"Inside. Now."
She scurried in, nearly tripping over the leg of a chair. Clutching the folder against her chest like armor.
Richard didn’t wait for her to speak. "You’re supposed to check your work before you bring it to me. Not after.”
Sophia blinked. “I— I did check it.”
"Then why did it take you twenty minutes to notice a mistake?"
"It was only fifteen," she said without thinking.
Wrong move.
Richard's gaze hardened. "Fifteen, twenty — if you had been thorough the first time, it wouldn’t have mattered, would it?"
She shrank back slightly. “No, sir.”
“And don’t you ever,” he said, voice lowering dangerously, “walk into my office without knocking again.”
Sophia nodded so fast she probably looked ridiculous. "Yes, sir."
He tossed another stack of files onto the desk between them. "Since you're so concerned with details, you can review these too. I expect a report by noon."
Sophia stammered out an agreement and grabbed the files with both hands, almost dropping them in her rush to leave.
At the door, she hesitated — like she wanted to say something, apologize again maybe — but a single glance at Richard's expression killed the idea.
She scurried out, closing the door firmly behind her.
Richard let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair.
Good.
Better.
Walls back up. Distance reestablished.
Just the way it needed to be.
- Writer
